


All The Way Home

by handyhunter



Category: X-Men Movieverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handyhunter/pseuds/handyhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post X2 to that hallway scene in X3. Lyrics from Bruce Springsteen's "All the Way Home".</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Way Home

_ crashin' like a drunk on a bar room floor_

Of all the places Logan would have thought to look for Scott Summers, a bar called "Lola's" was not one of them. But his bike was parked out front, so Logan pulled up alongside it, not caring if he was double parked.

There was a decent amount of people inside, but only one man sitting alone. Not surprising, given the way he was hunched over his beer, sending off strong "keep away" vibes.

Logan had always been good at ignoring social cues he felt like ignoring. "Summers. I've been sent to fetch you."

"Go away." Red light pulsed behind the lenses that hid Scott's eyes. The phrase "if looks could kill" sprang to Logan's mind.

"Can't say I didn't try." Halfway to the door, Logan turned around. "Give me your keys first," he said, and Scott wasn't so far out of it that he didn't understand what Logan was saying. He fished out his keys from his pockets and dropped them on the table top.

_nothin' but shadows and vapor_

Scott was like a ghost haunting the mansion. Neither Ororo nor the Professor could get to him, and the kids had taken to avoiding him. He spoke only when spoken to, and spent nearly all his time in the room he'd shared with Jean. He was starting to smell, too. A smelly, unkempt ghost.

Logan didn't know the first thing about calculus or physics, so he doubled the kids' training sessions instead, whenever he ended up covering some of Summers' classes. He mentioned it to Scott once or twice, but instead of a lecture, he got a blank stare.

That was probably the most unnerving -- it wasn't that Summers stopped dressing like he stepped out of a clothing catalogue or stopped shaving or even stopped caring when Logan borrowed his bike; it was his lack of concern for the kids. Logan may not have known much about being part of a team, much less its leader, but he was fairly certain this was not good leadership material. When they started looking to _him_ for guidance, there was something very wrong here.

_ain't afraid to take a fall _

Logan tested the door knob. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. Not so surprisingly, he found Scott still in bed, the covers drawn up over his head.

"Summers, I know you're awake. I can see your eyes glowing." Logan stood at the foot of the bed and contemplated poking the fearless leader in the toes with a nice, sharp claw. He wouldn't cut off the toes or anything; it was just to make sure Scott still felt _something_.

_Snikt_. There was no help for it. He'd tried extending his claws quickly and slowly, and they still made that sound, every time. It definitely got Summers' attention, though, because the next thing Logan knew he was flying through the window, with an angry, smoking wound in his midsection. Cyclops claimed he didn't have laser eyes, but from Logan's vantage, sprawled on the grass, three storeys down, with the wind knocked out of him, it didn't really make a difference what he called them. And Logan still wasn't sure Scott had actually gotten out of bed.

_We go on, as is our sad nature_

"The kids sure loved it, you blasting me outta that window." Logan leaned against the door frame.

Scott was repairing that same window. It was the most active he'd been in weeks. Logan didn't offer to help, figuring he'd already done enough, what with being defenestrated.

"Why are you still here, Logan?"

"Oh, are you _talkin'_ to me?"

"I thought you'd be halfway to the Yukon by now."

Logan scratched the back of his neck where the chain of his dog tags lay. "Nah. Not crazy about the mosquitoes this time of year."

"Make yourself useful, then. Hand me the glass, will you?"

This probably marked the first time Logan had been invited into Summers' room. He was careful not to disturb anything, though it looked like someone had been in to pack up Jean's belongings. Or maybe Summers did that himself, late at night, when he thought no one could hear him steal away into the garage.

_if you're seein' what you like_

Summers' new and improved mood lasted a grand total of eight days, not that Logan was counting or nothin'. During those days, Scott managed to shower, shave, teach a few classes (if he was going over the same stuff the kids had learned at the beginning of the year, no one said anything) and tinker with the Blackbird. The Professor and Ororo were even starting to look a little less stressed out.

Logan would've been right there with them, relieved that the team leader was back in the game, were it not for him overhearing something not meant for his ears. But Summers had forgotten to shut his door all the way, and Logan couldn't help it if his super-hearing made eavesdropping super-easy. He'd been on his midnight beer run and Summer's room was on the way to the kitchen.

"...checked the hydraulics like you told me too...just a little glitchy..."

Logan paused. None of his senses picked up on another person in the room with Scott.

"...trigonometry pop quiz...Yeah...had to separate Kitty and Rogue...good kids, but talkative..."

And then, as Logan was walking away, he heard, "...Jean?"

He froze in his tracks. He was sure as anything Jean had not been in that room with Scott. Not the real, live Jean anyway. He doubled back, but couldn't hear anything else but the sounds of fitful dreaming. Maybe Summers was just talking in his sleep. He'd have a talk with him tomorrow.

_baby, I could walk you all the way home_

Tomorrow came and went. Another three days passed, and Summers missed another training session; one that he himself had scheduled. Logan exchanged a look with Ororo, as they both wordlessly decided to sub in.

"We really have to worry about 10-foot-robot attacks?" Rogue said breathlessly, after the program.

Logan gave up searching for his cigar. "You never know, kid." He'd been rather proud of his invention. Even Summers gave him credit for "the most unconventional" training exercise. Not that he was here now to participate in it. That talk they were going to have was long overdue.

Times like these, Logan had his suspicions that Summers was part mind-reader - maybe you picked up on it if you lived with one long enough - because there was no way either of them wanted to have this talk, but enough was enough already. Scott was stalking down the hallway with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and his jaw set, so his cheekbones were prominent under his ruby glasses. He'd stopped shaving again. The kids were giving him curious, frightened looks, and moved out of his way.

"Hey, Summers."

"What, Logan?"

"About Jean..." Well, maybe that wasn't the best way to start. But it got Scott's attention, all right.

Scott's glasses were a very bright, pulsing red. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Hey, look. I know how you feel."

"Oh, this from the man who's tried to come between us since he got here."

It wasn't like that, Logan thought. Okay, maybe a little, but really, it was as much to get to Scott as it was to get Jean. He tried again. "When Jean died... I mean... Maybe it's time to move on?" Time to stop talking to her like she was here.

Scott stood very, very still for a moment, and Logan braced himself for another gut-wrenching blast, but all he said was, "Not everyone heals as fast as you, Logan. Where are my keys?"

Wordlessly, Logan tossed them over. This wasn't going the way Logan had planned. Maybe some time away from this place, with all its memories of Jean, would help. Anyway, it wasn't like Logan couldn't track Summers, if he needed a guide home.


End file.
